


The Classic Case of Sherlock and John

by abarelyfunctioning



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternative Universe - The Classic (Korean movie) Fusion, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, Love Letters, M/M, Mycroft's Meddling, Non Exclusive Sexual Content, Possessive Sherlock, Tears, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:37:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abarelyfunctioning/pseuds/abarelyfunctioning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The famous duo. The famous couple. The boyfriends of the year. Everyone in school knows who they are. </p><p>Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.</p><p>They are in love. </p><p>They are only teenagers fooling around in high school. Boys experimenting. They think they are in love. They are fooled by hormones, the adults say. They will know better once they go off to university. They will drift away.</p><p> </p><p>Based very loosely on <i>The Classic</i> (a Korean movie from 2003).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One of my favorite movies + BBC Sherlock. Neither of which I own. I don't get anything out of this work.
> 
> If you're not familiar with the movie, it's okay. I regret to say that I've only seen it once when it came out in 2003. I wrote this based on what I remember, which isn't much.  
> John's poem is my crappy translation of an excerpt from the movie.
> 
> Not Beta'd, not Brit-picked. Excuse the inevitable mistakes, as always.  
> The high school system (and possibly the university system) is based on US education system. Still not familiar with the UK one.

The famous duo. The famous couple. The boyfriends of the year. Everyone in school knows who they are.

_Sherlock Holmes and John Watson._

Just one glance at the two would tell the bystander how much in love they are. The subtle brush of hands as they walk side by side. The way they look at each other with the tiniest hint of a smile. The look that holds their little secrets, the inside jokes only they understand.

They are in love.

They are only teenagers fooling around in high school. Boys experimenting. They _think_ they are in love. They are fooled by hormones, the adults say. They will know better once they go off to university. They will drift away.

-

“Billie! Guess who just asked me out to dinner after Chem?” A petite girl in a green shirt runs into the room. Her luscious brown hair flows beautifully behind her cheery grin.

“Who?” Billie really could care less about her best friend’s 42nd potential boyfriend, but she tries to be nice. ‘Be nice to people. They will like you better,’ her dad used to say.

“Hal!” Lara exclaims while bouncing on her bed, unable to contain her excitement.

“Hal?” Billie thinks back to her past years to remember a Hal. She doesn’t recall anyone.

“Yes, Hal! The third year I’ve been telling you about all this time? Biochem major?” Lara refreshes her roommate’s memory. Her big green eyes are wide open with great expectation.

“Oh, yes, yes. I remember. The really smart one, yeah?” Billie remembers. How could she have forgotten? Lara has been talking about this man non-stop for the past two months.

“And really good-looking, too. The man is simply delicious!” Lara sings. “You must help me look for a dress for the dinner! He’s taking me to a fancy place across town!” She goes off to take her shower.

“Okay.” Billie is truly happy for her friend. Now that this Hal has finally asked Lara out, Billie wouldn’t have to hear his name come up every other minute. Or maybe this could mean that she’ll have to endure hearing it come up every other second. She sighs and goes back to studying.

-

“Sherlock Holmes?”

“Yeah, apparently he’s my chemistry partner this term.”

“Hah. Good luck with that, John.”

“What? Why? Something wrong with him?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“No… Should I be worried?”

“Well. Let me just say there are two types of people who know Sherlock Holmes: People who love him for his looks, and people who hate him for his brains. And there really aren’t that many who find him attractive. You’ll know when you meet him.”

-

“How was the date?” the pretty blonde girl asks when her roommate steps into the room.

“Do you really want to know?” Lara asks slyly.

“I’m dying to know. Do tell,” Billie smiles and looks up from her textbook.

“Oh, it was gorgeous! The food was exquisite and really expensive, too! The scallops were to die for!” Lara blushes in her flirtatious way that charms everyone around her to fall in love instantly.

Billie quirks her head to the side. “That’s it? Expensive food? You’ve been dying to spend some quality time with this bloke and food is all you can talk about?”

“Goodness, Bills! I could go on about the complexity of the tablecloth for hours before getting to the depth and beauty of the man’s eyes!” Lara exclaims. “Patience, my love.”

The girl in love tells her roommate about the perfection of the dinner for hours. In conclusion: they ate, they talked, they laughed, and they didn’t kiss to Lara’s dismay. But, there will be another date at the cinema, come Saturday.

-

“That was absolutely amazing.”

The tall boy seems surprised and chuckles.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Most people dislike it when I speak.”

“Well, I’m not most people.”

Their eyes lock for a full minute. In an instant, their lips touch and intimacy grows like wildfire.

-

“Bills? Billie. Billiford!”

Billie jerks awake from her afternoon nap. She had stayed up all the previous night in an attempt to finish her essay. She vows to never procrastinate again. “What? What? What’s going on?”

Lara’s towering over Billie’s bed. She smiles. “So Hal’s coming over tomorrow to tutor me. You okay with that? I told him about you and he’s really interested in meeting you! Isn’t that great? Oh, you’ll love him, too! He’s so charming and brilliant! Are you in? Are you? In? Yes, yes?”

Billie rubs her sleepy eyes and nods. “Yes, yes. I shall give my blessings for your happiness. I am your best friend, after all.”

-

“Something is… off.”

John sighs and points out the exceptional cleanliness of Sherlock’s goggles. John had spent half an hour making them sparkle for his boyfriend. It’s all in the details.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Fuck you, Watson.”

John quizzically looks up at Sherlock’s grin.

“Oh God, I’m rubbing off on you in _that_ way, now?”

“Well, at least you’re rubbing off on me. I wonder when I’m ever actually going to rub off on _you_ , John? Do you think you’ll be able to deduce something about Mr. Mayford’s secret affair by the end of the month?”

“Shut up, you.”

“Hey, you two love birds! Stop flirting and get back to work!”

The students burst into laughter and the love birds join in.

-

A soft knock at the door. Billie opens it, wondering if Lara had forgotten to take her key this morning. There’s a tall man with wavy black hair, staring in with soft green-grey eyes.

“Hello?” Billie greets in confusion.

“Hello, you must be Billie. I’ve heard all about you from your roommate. I’m Hamish. But people call me Hal,” the man says in a soft baritone voice. He does indeed have a ‘smile warm enough to melt a lump of gold,’ as Lara had described it. “Very nice to meet you.” His eyes are analytical yet gentle in the way that can never go unnoticed.

“Oh, yes. I am Billie. Erm, Lara isn’t in yet. I think her class has another 10 minutes to go.” Billie smiles awkwardly, wondering how much the man’s dark-blue dress shirt must have cost. “Would you like to come in?”

“If you don’t mind,” Hal replies. ‘His voice could put any hungry baby to instant sleep,’ Lara had said. Billie heartily agrees.

The man is perfection. No wonder Lara, the girl with 10.000 suitors, had set her mind to him at first sight.

-

“John, I need you.”

John abandons his brewing tea at the kitchen counter and walks over to the couch. Sherlock raises an arm at him. When John grabs the hand, the teenager at the couch pulls the shorter boy in.

They pull their lips apart reluctantly when their chests heave and they’re desperate for air.

“What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion is that I lo-”

“Nope. We agreed, Sherlock. We’re not saying the L-word until we’ve finally showed everyone that we’re not just little kids fooling around. Remember?”

“But that’s stupid, John. It’ll be years until that happens - and I’m only counting until the time we graduate from university. And they’ll still be doubting us after that. It’s just a word, John. And I would like to say how I feel _when_ I feel it.”

“Fine, say it. Just not where I can hear it. I want it to be absolutely perfect.”

“Fine. I want tea. No sugar, just milk.”

“Fine.”

-

“Billiana! Hal wants to go to the cinema and he suggested bringing you along. Said you need to get out of studying from time to time, love.” Lara pulls her friend’s face away from the book with a tight hug from behind. “Let’s go, let’s go! He’s expecting us there in 10.”

“But-” Billie starts to protest.

“Oh, shush it. It’s Friday and your exam isn’t until next Thursday! Live a little. Your father wouldn’t want you to waste away your youth poring over all that junk. You’re doing just fine, following his footsteps.” Lara throws her modest dress Billie likes over to Billie’s bed. “There’s a new film Hal wants to see and he thinks we’ll enjoy it. And by ‘we,’ he means you and I.”

Billie reads another sentence from her notes and puts on the blue dress that matches her own eyes.

The two first years arrive at the cinema and are greeted by the handsome man in a grey silk shirt and equally expensive-looking black trousers.

The end credits roll. Billie attempts to quickly wipe away the tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. A white handkerchief appears in front of her. Billie turns to look past her unconscious friend to the long-armed Hamish. His red-rimmed eyes are scrunched slightly into a tiny smile. Billie smiles back and takes the embroidered handkerchief.

Hal leaves the two girls at the dormitory to Lara’s disappointment, claiming that his professor has called him in for work.

Billie looks for her room key in her jacket pocket and produces the white handkerchief instead.

“Since when do you carry a handkerchief, Bills? I thought you liked your paper napkins and jumper sleeves,” Lara teases behind her.

“Oh, someone in class lent it to me today.” Billie doesn’t understand why she lies but she feels like it’s the right thing to do. She should give it back to Hal soon.

When Lara has gone into the showers, Billie observed the handkerchief. It’s rather unusual for a male university student to be carrying around an embroidered handkerchief.

_SH & JW_

She wonders who these people can be. Certainly not Hal, she thinks.

-

The silent _MINE-MINE-MINE_ fills the room as Sherlock devours John's soft lips. John can hear the other boy's desperate _YOU'RE MINE, JOHN, JOHN, MY JOHN_ loudly inside his head while Sherlock slowly, but determinedly enters into him.

"Ah!" John groans into Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock grinds in and out, never letting go of John's open mouth with his own. John keeps his eyes closed. He fears that if he opens them, this would just turn out to be a dream and his lover would vanish into the thin air. John holds onto his boyfriend tightly, all the while feeling Sherlock's piercing eyes, observing him. John still keeps his eyes shut.

"Oh God! Jesus! Yes!" John yells into Sherlock's mouth. He’s about to...

Sherlock stops. He pulls back from John's face and stares. John finally opens his eyes, quite startled.

"What's the matter?"

"Sherlock," the pale boy finally says. He stares at John defiantly, face flushed and chest heaving.

"What? Oh, no. Sherlock, I- What?" John is confused.

"It's Sherlock, John. I don't want anyone else's name coming out of you when _I'm_  the one pleasuring you. Now stop giving your Jesus all the credit. You know what my name is. Use it." Sherlock pouts, and comes back toward John, grinding into the smiling boy. "And open your eyes, for goodness' sake. I want your eyes on me when you make me scream."

It’s a good night. Even when John ends up jumping out of Sherlock's bedroom window completely naked at the sound of Mycroft coming up to the first floor of the manor. Mycroft doesn’t like John. It makes him feel better about not liking Mycroft back.

-

It’s Valentine’s Day.

“Any plans?” Billie asks her roommate as they get ready for their morning class.

“We’re meeting up for lunch. Hal’s filling in for the other TA today.” Lara doesn’t sound very happy about it, but the shift change had been scheduled for months. “Join us, Billison! I don’t want you to be excluded for the sake of an over-commercialized holiday.”

“No. I couldn’t possibly intrude on your precious date. When’s the last time you two actually got together?”

“Oh, he’s so busy this semester. He’s taking 40 units on top of TA-ing for Biochem and doing research for Professor Glasscow.”

“There’s a professor called Glasscow?” Billie asks as they head out the room.

“It’s Glahbow or Glakva or something. Apparently, people hate him.”

Lunch date at the university cafe for Valentine’s Day is certainly original, Billie thinks. The food is quite tasteless and the table hasn’t been cleaned for at least a month. Plus, she’s playing the third wheel - an ugly third wheel, comparable to the two very attractive people at the other side of the table.

When the meal is almost over and they’re talking over coffee, Hal produces two small boxes and holds them out to the two girls. “Since you don’t have anyone to receive a Valentine from, I have generously prepared something for you, too, Bill,” he says teasingly. “You can choose first.”

One box is covered in gold silk wrapping paper with a sky-blue bow. The other is wrapped in a modest brown wrapping paper with a white ribbon. Billie’s hand heads toward the latter, when Hal shakes the gold box slightly. Lara doesn’t seem to have noticed. Billie takes the gold one.

They part. Hal goes to the lab, and the girls go back to their apartment. On the way, Lara has the idea of exchanging their boxes, and Billie ends up with the brown one.

-

“What is this John? Did you even try? Or is this you trying too hard?”

“Shut up. I told you I’m really not that poetic.”

“Not _that_ poetic? Maybe take out the _that_? And I thought we weren’t to use the L-word.”

“We are not to _say_ the L-word. We are allowed to write it, though. And God, Sherlock. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m just trying to be romantic here?”

“You’re certainly trying _something_. I don’t know about romantic, John.”

“Fine. Give it back, then.”

“Never.”

Sherlock holds the small paper out of John’s reach and hurriedly scribbles something on a yellow notepad. He rips off the page and hands it to John.

“This is how we do romantic around here, John.”

-

There’s a small leather bracelet, tightly braided to a brown band - nothing special. A tiny gold charm in the shape of a violin is dangling at the middle. Billie reads the small note residing under the leather piece. It reads:

_If you close your eyes,_   
_If you can hear your heartbeat,_   
_It means that the one you love_   
_Is thinking about you._   
_If on a windy night_   
_The leaves outside your window shake and sway,_   
_It means that the one you love_   
_Is missing you._

Her chest tightens. Which feels like a very incorrect reaction to have at such… clichéd words.

She calls for Lara. “Was there a note in your box?” she asks.

“No, just a pair of earrings.”

“I think this box was meant to be for you,” Billie hands Lara the note.

Lara giggles at the words. “Goodness, I never thought Hal could be this cheesy-weesy. Aww, what a sweet man. I’ll just take the note. I like the earrings. Keep the bracelet. It suits you more, anyway.”

Billie’s glad. She actually likes the simple bracelet and the tiny violin. Simple and average, just like her.

-

“Let me wear one of your shirts. They're big enough to cover my cock and most of my thighs.”

“Why? You have your own shirt.”

“It’s much more intimate, much sexier. At least in theory.”

“Take it. Take them all.”

-

Billie steps out of the Science Building and looks out onto the pouring rain. It hadn’t been raining an hour ago when her class ended. But the professor had wanted to speak with her about a research opportunity. Now it’s raining. She regrets having lent her only umbrella to Lara. Lara’s class had ended 2 hours ago and she should have been back at the apartment before the rain started.

Billie wonders what to do. Should she wait for the rain to stop? Should she run across the campus to the streets and take a taxi? Run to the apartment?

“No umbrella?” a deep voice says behind her and Billie nearly suffers from a heart attack.

“Oh, hey, Hal. Nope. I should just wait here until it ends. I thought you had a lab to teach?”

“Cancelled,” Hal answers nonchalantly. He takes off his great black coat and spreads it over their heads. “I’ve miscalculated today’s weather and didn’t bring an umbrella either. Would you like to join me and be my coat-tarp buddy?”

“Gladly,” Billie smiles.

They run through the rain. The coat itself is waterproof, but by the time they get to the streets, both are soaked through. They probably shouldn’t have ran. They find shelter at the door of the closed Main Office.

“Did you open the gift? Or has our greedy Lara taken both gifts away with her?” Hal asks.

“We ended up exchanging them. I wanted the other one and begged her for it.” Billie says.

“So you got the note, then?” Hal eyes the small coil around Billie’s right wrist.

“Yes, but no worries. I gave it back to Lara. She’s really fond of your poem.”

“But what did _you_ think of it?”

“Hmm?” Billie looks at Hal’s strange light-blue eyes. Before she can think of an answer, she notices the rain stopping. “Hey! We should have waited it out at the Sciences. Then we wouldn’t be so wet. I’ve got to go. See you, Hal! And it would be nice if you called Lara once in a while. She misses you.”

With that, Billie leaves her companion at the door and runs toward her apartment with abnormally fast-beating heart. She believes it to be due to the running. She thinks back to the glimpse of a black plastic piece that looked a lot like an umbrella handle, sticking conspicuously out of Hal’s book bag. She’s sure she’s imagined it.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock looks at his lover, twitching nervously across the table. They are seated by the window at their favourite restaurant. Sherlock and John are celebrating their high school graduation, coming next week.

“Tell me.” Sherlock’s heart thumps with irrational concern. “What’s the matter, John?”

John remains silent. For a second, his blue eyes tear up then go back to normal. But Sherlock doesn’t miss the change. He never misses any detail when it’s to do with John.

“John?”

John takes a nervous sip from his water glass. He opens his mouth. He closes his mouth. He opens it again.

“My dad’s lost his job. Mum’s left to go live with her family. Harry’s tuition… We can’t afford to send me to uni. I’ve- I’ve joined the Army.”

For the first time in his life, Sherlock’s brain stops whirring. “John-” he manages.

“It’s the only way for me to get a stable job and the medical education I've always wanted. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I’ve been hoping you would deduce it yourself so I wouldn’t have to let you know this way. I ask you that you don’t try and stop me. I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll come back to you. I-”

Sherlock holds up his hand. “It’s completely your decision to make. I don’t have the right- _any_ right to stop you from doing what you believe is the best for you.” Sherlock blinks away the pooling tears. “However, I don’t agree with you. I don’t consent to this. I don’t support you. We live in the time of war, John. Who’s to say that you’ll stay alive and come back to me?” He chews his lips - his own version of John’s habit he’s acquired over the past 45.6 months they have been together.

“You won’t wait for me, then?” A line of tear runs down John’s left cheek.

Sherlock wants to reach over and kiss it away. “Of course I’ll wait for you. I didn’t waste all that time just to miss the opportunity to say that I…” His mouth is dry. He swallows nothing instead of reaching for water.

“I love you.” John’s soft words sound foul and dry in Sherlock’s ears. He refuses to process them. But his brain never stops.

“I hate you.” Sherlock’s whisper stabs John’s chest a thousand times. “I hate you for leaving me this way. I hate you for going away. I hate you for assuming I’d still be here when you’ve come back - quite correctly, but still. I hate you for saying ‘I love you’ first.” He wipes away the tear before it leaves his watery eye. “I love you.”

-

“Mum? Do you have dad’s old medical notes?” Billie asks over the phone.

“I’m sure I do. Somewhere in the attic. What do you need them for?”

“Just wondering if they could help me with my research paper. It’s to do with comparing and contrasting the past and contemporary medical treatments. If you can find them, send them over to me? And fast?”

-

The worst about checking the obituaries for the overseas soldiers? Sherlock would say, ‘Stupid war, stupid guns, stupid journalists, stupid, stupid, stupid John for getting shot and dying.’

-

Billie receives a giant box a week later. Listening to Lara speaking excitedly about a certain Alpert, the exchange student from Denmark or Finland or possibly Bolivia, Billie carefully opens the old box. She thinks back to the times her daddy used to list anatomical names to her when he was still alive.

“What happened to Hal?” Billie asks and takes out a handful of old, dusty paper and books.

“Who? Oh, him. I broke it off. He just never had the time for me and I don’t think he was ever actually interested in me. We never got past the romantic dinner stage, anyway.’ Lara shrugs and goes back to chattering about Alpert.

Billie opens one of the bigger books, HERBOLOGY, and skims through the index. She gives up after _M_ and throws it carelessly on her bed. It opens onto a page, with a small bookmark protruding out. When she picks it out, she notices that it’s not just a bookmark - it’s a small letter written in neat cursive.

 

_**My John,** _

_I miss you._

_I’ve been trying various substances to drown out the voices in my head. It’s gotten so much worse without you here. With me. Alcohol just slows me down. Never doing that again. I cried and puked and cried. It was a horrible night. Heroin seems to work the best but it’s so difficult to obtain. It’s a problem._

_Yes, John. I know it’s bad for me but I just can’t stop. I think I’m addicted to it. So you should come back right now to stop me from overdosing. Fuck the Queen and country. No, don’t. Come and fuck me instead. I miss you._

_Mycroft keeps intercepting the letters somehow. And he’s not even the British government yet! He threatened to take my violin away once._

_Once._

_Forever yours,_   
_**SH** _

_P.S. I love you._

-

John wakes up screaming in the white hospital room. He learns what’s happened to him and gets discharged to the grey London streets. He has an annoying psychosomatic limp, and an ugly scar that prevents him from using his preferred arm extensively.

He thinks about writing to Sherlock. But he doesn’t. He’d rather surprise him in person. Sherlock will be happy to see him. Elated. Especially now that John’s back for good. Sherlock had stopped writing to John 3 years ago, but the ex-soldier is certain that he must have had a good reason (Mycroft). Sherlock had promised to wait. He always keeps his promises.

After another gruesome therapy, John slowly limps toward his hotel room. He notices a fancy black car following him and gets into it. He’s taken to an obscure warehouse and is greeted by a familiar face.

-

Lara goes to her evening Philosophy class. With the whole room to herself for the next 2 hours, Billie takes apart all the contents of the box.

After an hour of diligent sorting, she has a stack of old letters and notes, covered in the tiny cursive of SH.

 

_**John.** _

_I’ve taken up the habit of writing your name over and over again on every visible surface of my room. The landlady isn’t happy. She keeps asking about you. And if you actually exist in real life. I never tell. I don’t want anyone else to know who you are. I want to keep you as mine for ever and ever. You’re mine, John. My Hamish. My dear Watson. Mine. Mine. I need to have you by my side. I need to feel your face again. How different do you look now? Is your face all leathery and tanned? Got yourself any dark spots? No, don’t tell me. I want to be surprised. I want to analyse the differences and deduce what’s happened to you there. You better not get any skin cancer, John. I don’t want my canvas to be tainted by the UV rays. When you come back, I’m going to colour your beautiful skin with-_

Billie reaches for her phone and calls her mother. “Mum? What’s dad’s full name?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I need to know. It’s of the utmost importance. Mum?”

“John Hamish Watson.”

-

John stares at his own headstone. A single calla lily takes the empty space in front of it.

JOHN HAMISH WATSON

He has been officially dead for the past 3 years. Shot, dead, body unretrieved. Thanks to the British government, as known as one Mycroft Holmes.

‘It was the only way to convince Sherlock to agree to the marriage. He needed to be married to the Baron’s daughter in order for us to keep the Holmes estate.’

John picks up the flower. He crumbles it in his hands and tosses it far away from his own grave.

Mycroft’s pretty assistant comes behind him and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. He wants to punch her.

-

_**Dear John.** _

_I was looking through our letters and notes from high school. And I found the Valentine you gave me during our third year. Remember the horrible poem you wrote me? Of course you don’t. Here it is to refresh your memory. Don’t show it to any one of your people. This is strictly our’s and our own._

If you close your eyes,  
If you can hear your heartbeat,  
It means that the one you love   
Is thinking about you.  
If on a windy night  
The leaves outside your window shake and sway,  
It means that the one you love   
Is missing you.

_It’s still terrible, John. But it grows on you the more you read it, doesn’t it? ...It still doesn’t make it any more romantic. Remember my poem, John?_

I LOVE YOU  
I LOVE YOU  
I LOVE YOU  
I LOVE YOU  
I LOVE YOU  
I LOVE YOU  
I LOVE YOU  
I LOVE YOU

 _Forever yours,  
_ _**SH** _

_P.S. I STILL LOVE YOU._

-

John is driven to the park. He doesn’t know why, but he also doesn’t care. He just wants to get the hell out of this bloody car and away from anything Mycroft Holmes. He wanders through the green grass and much-too lively trees with the PA trailing after him, always 20 feet away.

Then he spots him.

Sherlock in black, completely and thoroughly in black. Black dress shirt, black suit jacket, black trousers, black hair. The black coat John had given him for his 18th birthday. The coat John had bought with the money he had saved up for a whole year, working 3 different part-time jobs. The beautiful ebony curls seem to have lost some of their lush since their high school days. Sherlock’s face is certainly a bit worn-out. John hopes that it’s just due to age. Nothing else.

Sherlock laughs as a beautiful woman in a green gown walks toward him. A small child in her arms raises its tiny hands toward Sherlock. Sherlock takes the baby into his arms. The woman kisses Sherlock’s cheek.

For the first time since he’s gotten back to London, John drops the cane and runs. And runs. And runs until his lungs can’t take it anymore.

-

_**John,** _

_Here’s a bit of information I have never told you before._

William Sherlock Scott Holmes.

_That’s my full name. In case you’ve decided to take on my habit of writing your name over and over. You asked how I knew your middle name. I broke into the school records the month after our first kiss. I learned all the information I couldn’t deduce just from what you let on. Don’t be angry. Are you angry? I thought you might get angry and never told you before. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for having said that I hate you before telling you I love you._

_My brother wants to marry me off to some rich family. Or royalty. Or the Queen or something. Is it a Queen? Do we still have a Queen? Or do we have a King now? I am diligently protesting but it’s Mycroft. We never know to what length he’s willing to go in order to get me to do what he wants. You need to come home. Come home to me now, and save your damsel in distress. Stop playing hero there. I need you here._

_Please._  
 _**SH** _

-

John gets a job at a small clinic. He only stays in London because Mycroft wants him to stay out of it. It hurts like hell but he still gets hopeful whenever he gets out on the streets. He might get to see Sherlock today. Sherlock might come back to John. Sherlock might… Sherlock…

-

“Mum?”

“What now, love? What’s going on with you? What is with the sudden interest in your father, dear?”

“I’m sorry mum, but I have a question about my name. Not dad this time.”

“Your name?”

“Yeah, mum. How did my name come up? Why… Billie?"

“Oh, it’s actually to do with him, too. Ever since we learned that I was pregnant with you, John insisted on naming you William Scott. I was so happy to have a beautiful little girl instead and wanted to name you after my own mother, Amanda, but he had already signed the birth certificate with Billie Watson before I even got to hold you. I was so disappointed, you know. Why the sudden interest? Do you want to change your name? I don’t think your father would approve if he found out from the heavens above.”

“No, no. I was just curious. I’ve got to go. Study.”

-

John dates a nice lady - a receptionist at his clinic. They get married. They have a beautiful blonde girl with John’s deep-blue eyes.

‘All wounds heal,’ they say. Not all wounds. Never _his_ wounds.

At the age of 55, John dies of lung cancer. Funny, that. Sherlock’s implied drug habits have taught him never to put any bad substance into his own body. And he ends up dying of lung cancer.

He prays to God that he’ll be able to meet Sherlock again someday. Since not in this lifetime, maybe the next.

-

John Hamish Holmes proposes to Billie Watson the day after her graduation.

Billie is driven to the Holmes manor to meet Hal’s parents for the first time.

The door opens and Billie steps into the main room.

A tall man in his 60’s with white curly hair slowly gets off his chair. He doesn’t realize that the thick blanket has dropped off his skinny legs. With teardrops running down his leathery angular face, he slowly walks over to Billie and holds her tightly.

“You’ve finally come back!”


End file.
